


the greatest thing you'll ever learn

by poiregourmande



Category: Buzzfeed - Fandom, Buzzfeed Pero Like (Webseries)
Genre: Dating Pact, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Trial Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 03:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19165285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poiregourmande/pseuds/poiregourmande
Summary: “Let’s make a pact. If by the time we’re thirty-five we’re both single, we’ll get married.”





	the greatest thing you'll ever learn

**Author's Note:**

> so technically this is in the same verse as my island in the sun / married!kelgene AU and if you can spot why i'll have to marry you

Following Thai Thursdays with Romcom Nights became a tradition for Aria and Maya about two months ago. She hated going back home alone after they hung out with their friends, so he started accompanying her. Add in a large blanket, wine, and a big bowl of popcorn and they had all they needed to forget their loneliness for a night. 

Tonight is no exception. They’re cozy under Maya’s favourite fleece blanket — the one with little pink kitties on it — sharing fistfuls of popcorn and a bottle of rosé. Twenty minutes into Music & Lyrics, Maya heaves a heavy sigh and presses pause. 

“I hate being single,” she whines, in that mock-crying tone that is carefully crafted to give the impression that she’s kidding even though on the inside all she really wants is to be seen and validated. 

Aria knows better than to ask what brought this on. Megan was with her boyfriend at Thai Thursday, and they’re frustratingly good together, and Hugh Grant is devastatingly handsome on the screen. All this on top of the Bumble guy who ghosted her last week, and a glass of rosé: a recipe for heartache. 

He pulls the blanket closer, wraps an arm around her shoulders. “I know, honey. But you’re such an incredible girl, I just know you’re gonna find The One soon.”

“What if I don’t? What if I wake up one day at forty unmarried and unloved?”

Aria turns in his seat to face her. “Let’s make a pact. If by the time we’re thirty-five we’re both single, we’ll get married.”

Maya eyes him like she’s seeing him differently, pondering what he’d be like as a lover rather than as a friend. 

“What if we get to thirty-five and realize we’re thoroughly incompatible?”

“Then we stay single, just friends, no harm done?”

Maya purses her lips, gaze determined, piercing. “No, we must go on a trial date.”

Aria is definitely taken aback. He stammers a bit, but finally agrees. “Sure, just tell me when.”

Maya holds out a wagging finger. “Oh no no no, sir. It’s a date, you gotta ask me out properly. I want the whole nine yards.”

Aria grins. “I don’t think you can handle the whole nine yards. The whole nine yards will make the girl want to marry me.”

“So you’ve got nothing to lose, then, have you?”

 

***

 

Aria’s had the idea of the perfect date all planned out in his head for years. It changed a bit over time, depending on the girl he was with, but the core of it stayed the same through it all. It’s the date he’s kept in mind through all his relationships, telling himself he’d pull it out when he’d propose, but none of them worked out. 

Maybe he shouldn’t burn his proposal date on just a friend, but if anyone deserves to be treated like a princess, it’s Maya. Aria tells himself that it can serve as a rehearsal for when he proposes to The One, but for some reason, this feels less important just now than showing Maya the time of her life. 

It’s been a while since he’s had an occasion to pull out his grand gestures, to spoil someone, and, if he’s honest with himself, he’s positively giddy at the idea. A bit nervous, too, which is weird because it’s not like this date holds any real stakes. 

He rings Maya’s doorbell on a Saturday night, three weeks later — “these things take time to plan!” he’d told her the previous week when she began to grow impatient. He’s decked out in his favourite suit, the maroon one, a bouquet of sunflowers behind his back — they’ve always reminded him of Maya. Butterflies flutter around in his stomach, as if it were a real date, but Aria figures it’s just because he hasn’t done that in a while. He takes a deep breath and the butterflies calm down a bit. 

Maya answers the door, knocking the wind out of his lungs. She looks absolutely stunning in a flared, knee-length red dress, with white heels and her hair swept over one shoulder. 

“Holy s—Hi!” he manages, forgetting the flowers in his astonishment. 

Maya eyes him appreciatively, smoothing over his lapel. “So handsome. Are these for me?” she teases, pointing at the flowers behind his back. 

“Oh! Yeah, sorry! Um. You look marvellous.”

“I know, right?” she grins, kissing his cheek. “Thanks for the flowers, they’re my fave!”

She disappears a minute to put the bouquet in some water, and comes back with the tiniest purse. She links her arm through his and he feels tingles up to his shoulders, but it’s easier to breathe now that she’s besides him and he can look away. 

“Sooooo,” she says, “what have you planned for me?”

She sounds adorably excited and Aria wants to spill it all out for her but he still has a smidge of self-control left. “It’s a surprise,” he reminds her. 

Maya makes coquettish eyes at him when he opens her car door, and he should do this for his female friends more often because it feels really nice. They sing to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack throughout the ride, and Aria wishes all first dates were this easy, already knowing what the other likes and having a ton in common. 

Between songs, Maya keeps asking where he’s taking her — they get out of the city into a woodsy area, and the look of confusion grows on her face. 

“I swear to god,” she says, “if I didn’t know you, I’d be terrified you’re about to murder me.”

Aria scoffs. “And risk being single at thirty-five? Not a chance.”

Aria finally parks the car somewhere that, except for the narrow plank path winding through the trees, looks exactly like all the surrounding patches of forest. 

The path is too narrow to walk arm in arm so they hold hands. Aria wonders if she can feel his pulse accelerating. It doesn’t occur to him to ask himself why that is. The path winds through the woods until they reach an enormous old oak. Affixed to the trunk, a ladder. 

“After you,” he says, waving her on.

He follows her up the ladder not too closely, resolutely keeping his eyes down so he doesn’t see under her dress. 

At the top is a large wooden platform with delicately dressed tables. A treehouse restaurant. 

Aside from a maître d’ and a string quartet, they’re the only ones there. 

“Madame,” the maître d’ greets her, guiding her to a table. 

Maya sits in silence for a few minutes, breathlessly taking in everything around her, mouth agape. The sun was barely starting to set when they parked the car, but up among the leaves like this, it’s darker, and so the platform is lit with fairy lights all over. The string quartet are playing a soft melody, something gentle and twinkly, setting the whole place in a fairyland-ish atmosphere. 

Aria can’t tear his gaze away from Maya. Watching her take in her magical surroundings is addictive — the twinkle in her eye, the curl of her smile — forget the whimsical setting, she’s the most beautiful thing he can see. 

“What the fuck?”  she finally whispers in awe. “Aria!” She can only shake her head and giggle in disbelief at her surroundings. 

Aria grins. “Like it?”

“This is the single most incredible thing someone’s ever done for me, but I gotta say… boy, if you can afford this with your Buzzfeed salary, I seriously need to ask for a raise.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Nah, I could never. I just know the right people. I cashed in, ah, half a dozen favours to pull this off.”

“For me?” She presses a hand to her heart, coyly batting her eyelashes. 

It’s obviously a bit, but Aria doesn’t feel like laughing. He takes her hand, gazes deep in her eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Gosh,” Maya says, her voice a bit high-pitched, and she looks away. She clears her throat. “Um, thanks.”

This is when it occurs to Aria that he might be acting a bit intense — which is Very out of character for him and Not At All something most of his exes complained about, no, sir. “Hey, you asked for the whole nine yards, this is it!” he says, grinning in an attempt to bring things this side of the too-much line. 

Luckily, Eduardo, the maître d’, pops in at this very moment to pour them champagne and save Aria from digging himself a bigger hole. 

Maya grins as she holds up her glass. “To the whole nine yards!”

“To you.” Aria answers, clinking his glass against hers. Oops. 

But Maya doesn’t look mad or uncomfortable, so he figures he didn’t totally mess up. 

The courses start coming in, and Maya is a bit more speechless with each one. Where she’d been expecting a menu of tiny, artfully plated portions is instead a parade of authentic Chicano meals, hearty just like her grandmother used to make. 

She looks at Aria, tears in her eyes. “This is… I can’t thank you enough. Wow,” she laughs through her tears, “Look at this, why am I crying?” She dabs at her eyes with her napkin, careful not to mess up her makeup. “Probably too much champagne,” she says, tapping her fingernail against her glass. 

Their eyes meet, and Aria knows the champagne isn’t to blame. She’s happy. His heart flutters at being the cause of it. 

After a wonderful — and too rich — dessert, Aria gets up and offers Maya his hand. “May I have this dance?”

She blushes a gentle pink, nodding as he leads her to the dance floor. The band plays a louder piece, more danceable than the soft background soundtrack they’ve played so far. 

Aria knows just enough about dancing to lead her around the floor and twirl her. Nothing fancy, but enough to show her a good time. Before long Maya’s laughing in his arms, breathless, eyes bright. Brighter than the fairy lights strung about the branches all around them. 

“You know what this reminds me of?” she asks during a slower movement. “That scene in the live action Peter Pan. When he takes Wendy for a dance in the forest?”

Aria beams. “You really know how to talk to a guy.”

“I know how to talk to you.”

As if on cue, the band starts playing a string arrangement of Coldplay’s  _ Clocks _ , like in the movie. 

Their eyes meet and it’s like all of Aria’s romcom fantasies took shape around him. 

Hers, too. They have the same fantasies. Always have. 

“Thirty-five is too long to wait,” he whispers. 

“Then don’t.”

What Hollywood doesn’t tell you about first kisses is how warm her lips are when they first touch his. How all his nervous energy seems to flow to his fingertips, stuttering around her hips, the small of her back. How that breathless laugh of hers against his lips contains the entire meaning of life. 

Sometimes a boy waits for years to meet the girl. 

But what he doesn’t know is that he’s already met her. 

  
  



End file.
